


All the Fire and Flames

by herculesmulligan1781



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Between Ch 67 & Epilogue, Canonical Haybales, First Time, Hand Job, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7684126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herculesmulligan1781/pseuds/herculesmulligan1781
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan returns home to find Adam busy in the hayloft - Adam's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Offering; Adam

When he heard thunder crawl toward The Barns, Adam changed into work clothes and hurried outside. 

Rain would soon follow the thunder, he knew, and neither he nor Ronan had gotten around to securing the hay bales like they had discussed. He could pull the bales away from the leak in the roof and collect tarps from miscellaneous barns to cover them. That would have to do for tonight, for this storm. But he would need to work fast. He and Ronan could sort it out after that. When Ronan got back. 

Ronan had taken Opal to DC to spend a few days with Matthew and Declan. Trips like that were possible for dreamers who had become dropouts, but Adam remained behind to go to class. They were due back tonight. Adam entertained the thought that Ronan would pull in before he started on the bales and come out to help him. Not likely, he told himself as he tried to remember which barns held tarps he could use. 

Between the storm clouds and the setting sun, light to work by slipped away quickly. He opened a pickle jar, releasing a dozen dream flowers to illuminate his task. As the thunder intensified and the lightning began, Adam moved and stacked hay bales. The air in the loft, already heavy and humid, clung to him unpleasantly. He stopped frequently to wipe his face with his tee shirt, and wished he had thought to bring a bandana.

Most of the bales were moved under the good portion of the roof by the time the torrential rain fell. He scooted the few remaining bales away from the leaky areas of the roof so they would remain dry until he could properly move them. He was glad he’d gotten started at the first opportunity; there hadn’t been any time to waste.

Adam was so absorbed arranging the dry bales to fit under the available tarps that he didn’t hear boots ascending the loft ladder. When he turned to grab another tarp, thunder filled his good ear as a lightning supernova illuminated Ronan, leaning against a post, his arms crossed, wearing a dirty smirk.

“Shit, Ronan!” Adam said, startled. “Do you have to scare me to damn death when I’m workin’?” His heartbeat echoed the crashing thunder.

“I missed you, too, Parrish,” Ronan said, unfolding his arms, crossing the floor. He shimmered, rain-damp, in the low light. Adam took three steps to meet him.

As their lips met and their arms drew each other close, Adam’s heart pounded out a different sort of thunder.

“God, I missed you,” Adam breathed against Ronan’s mouth before continuing the kiss he had interrupted. He felt Ronan’s warm hands slide down his damp back and up inside his tee shirt. Adam shivered and melted under Ronan’s touch. His arms tightened around Ronan, crushing their chests close. His hands dropped down to Ronan’s ass.

“Jesus, yes,” Ronan growled in Adam’s good ear before kissing Adam’s neck.

Adam felt like he’d been struck by lighting. He’d been so self-conscious with Ronan physically since this had started, unsure of himself, cautious, prudent. Maybe it was being apart for longer than the school day, maybe it was his own long-pent-up hunger, he wasn’t sure what had ignited this fire. He felt his caution melt away under the heat of Ronan’s hands and lips. He had a critical need for more.

Adam stepped abruptly back, his gaze locked with Ronan’s, blue on blue electricity.

Ronan looked confused at the sudden disconnection. The storm raged around them for a moment until Ronan said, “Adam, what the hell?”

Adam stared into those molten blue eyes, grabbed the hem of his soaked shirt, and pulled it off over his head. Adam could feel Ronan’s eyes move across every inch of the bare expanse of his chest and abs.

“Wait,” Ronan said, his eyes drifting back up to Adam’s, “That’s not what I meant. You don’t...we don’t have to…”

A knowing smirk crept across Adam’s face as he swung his sodden tee shirt over his shoulder and grabbed Ronan’s hand. “Shut up, Ronan,” he said. “Come here.”

Ronan allowed Adam to pull him to a spot closer to the hay bales.

“Sit here,” Adam instructed, pressing Ronan to the hayloft floor where he landed cross-legged.

Adam moved to stand in front of a hay bale, directly in front of Ronan. He tossed his tee shirt behind him onto a bale and peeled off his work gloves. He let one hand drift over to the waistband of his jeans then slid the heel of his hand firmly down his fly and back up to the waistband, along the length of his cock.

Ronan’s eyes were huge. Adam watched Ronan’s face as he moved his hand slowly along the same path again, feeling himself grow harder

He thought he heard Ronan breathe “Fucking Christ.”

Strobe-lit by lighting, Adam stroked his palm up and down in a slow and steady rhythm. Ronan’s eyes were locked on his hand. Adam’s chest heaved.

His other hand drifted to his waistband to unbutton, unzip. His mouth went dry and his breathing went ragged when Ronan wrenched his eyes upward to meet his.

Adam hooked both his thumbs inside his jeans and bent over to shove them down, never breaking gaze with Ronan. His jeans pooled around his workboots and his heart felt like it would explode. 

When he stood up, lit golden under the glow of Ronan’s dream flowers then silvered by lightning flash, he was naked to Ronan’s gaze, and throbbing hard. He stood still letting Ronan drink him in. That scrutiny might as well have been a physical touch; Adam’s flesh burned under that caress.

Adam sat down carefully on the bale. Ronan had risen to his knees and once again locked his gaze with Adam’s. Adam stared back and slowly opened his thighs. Ronan’s gaze dropped.

Adam trailed a flat hand up and down his cock. Stripped and naked, sweaty, his cock hot and hard in his hand, Ronan’s eyes devouring him. His veins pulsed with fire and his brain felt like it might burst through his skull. 

He stroked faster, making a fist around his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Ronan growled from deep in his throat, his eyes riveted. “Adam...fucking hot.”

Adam groaned, throwing his head back. His hips thrust his cock upward into his fist as it stroked down. “C’mere,” he rasped at Ronan.

Ronan seemed to float across the floor, never taking his eyes from Adam. He sat on the bale beside Adam. 

“Kiss me,” Adam groaned, his thumb and finger circled around his cock, gliding and twisting just under the head.

Ronan swallowed hard, then cupped Adam’s face with both hands and kissed him fiercely. They  
moaned into the kiss, tongues soft and wet and urgent.

Adam stopped stroking to grab Ronan’s hand from his cheek and place it along his straining cock. He closed Ronan’s fingers around his shaft, then moved Ronan’s hand along its length with his own.

“God, yes, Ronan. Make me come. I’m gonna come so hard” Adam croaked, just before Ronan kissed him savagely.

Adam’s body jerked and rippled beneath Ronan’s stroking hand, his fevered lips. Adam choked out a ragged groan as he urged Ronan’s hand to move faster.

When Adam’s heart combusted in his chest, his bones began to liquify. Ronan drew back at the last moment to watch Adam’s orgasm surge through his body. Ronan felt the rhythmic pulsing against his palm before Adam’s release. 

Ronan held him until his breathing stilled, until he could speak.

“Welcome home,” Adam whispered.

“If this is welcome home, I'm going away again tomorrow,” Ronan murmured before he kissed him.


	2. Worship; Ronan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan comes home to find Adam busy in the hayloft - Ronan's POV

The drive home from DC with Opal had been fast, loud and without incident. Even the torrential rain ten minutes from The Barns didn’t slow him down. Visiting his brothers had been great, but it was past time to get back home. Back to Adam.

Opal had somehow managed to fall asleep in spite of the constant electronic thump and the shuddering sky. He pulled up directly in front of the porch steps, draped her with a hoody from the back seat, and carried her inside to her bedroom. Once she was settled in her bed he went in search of Adam.

Parrish wasn’t in their bedroom. Or the bathroom. Or anywhere on the first floor. Ronan paced back to the front door, peering through it to be sure the shitbox was in the gravel lot. It was. He stalked to the screened-in porch behind the kitchen. He hated to leave Opal. He didn’t think she’d wake up, but if she did she would call him. He always picked up that call. He grabbed a set of keys from their hook, yanked his jacket up to cover his head, and ran through the sheeting rain to the old pickup parked behind the house.

He knew this terrain like he knew Adam’s hands, but the storm slowed his progress enough to irritate him. _The fuck Parrish was out in this instead of barefoot in his kitchen. Or something._

He drove carefully from shed to barn to outbuilding until he spotted a faint glow in the hayloft. _Shit_. He had forgotten about the roof.

Parking the pickup just outside the barn door, he killed the engine and disappeared inside.

His heartbeat picked up when his boot hit the first rung of the ladder. Deep, like a bass line, he could feel the pounding everywhere, all the way out to his fingertips.

Adam was arranging bales when he stepped off the ladder onto the loft floor.

The golden light of several dream flowers shone from the loft ceiling. The floor under the bad portion of the roof was clear, most of the the bales stacked neatly and covered. Adam had been at this a while.

Ronan felt his heartbeat echoed lower as he leaned against a post, appreciating the sight on display. Adam’s thin white tee shirt was soaked through, clinging to his chest and back for dear life. He watched the muscles of Adam’s back tense and release as he tied a tarp down over a stack of bales. When Adam bent over, Ronan’s eyes swept along the curve of his jean-clad ass. As Adam turned, reaching behind for another tarp, Ronan wished feverishly that Adam hadn’t obscured his hands with those work gloves. _Easy fix_ , Ronan thought, just as a searing shock of lightning lit the hayloft. Adam caught sight of him and startled.

“Shit, Ronan,” he said, taking a step back. “Do you have to scare me to damn death when I’m workin’?”

Ronan felt the shape of the dirty smirk his lips wore. If watching Adam hadn’t already ignited him, that sweet unguarded accent would have set him ablaze immediately. _God damn_. 

“I missed you too, Parrish,” Ronan said, unfolding his arms, crossing the floor. Adam closed the distance.

As their lips met and their arms drew each other close, the flames from Ronan’s burning heart surged impossibly high, sparks trailing upward into his brain.

Adam’s mouth backed off enough to breathe “God, I missed you,” against Ronan’s lips before continuing the kiss he interrupted.

Ronan’s hands slid down the the damp plains of Adam’s back and up inside his tee shirt. His pulse pounded in his palms; nothing felt as wondrous as Adam’s bare skin.

Adam shivered just before his arms tightened around Ronan, crushing their chests together. He felt Adam’s hands slide down to squeeze his ass. Lava pumped in his veins.

“Jesus, yes,” slipped past Ronan’s lips and into Adam’s good ear before his lips moved down to kiss Adam’s neck.

And suddenly Adam stepped back. _The fuck?_

He locked eyes with Adam while his brain attempted to function, to understand. _I did too much. This is too much. I’m too much. He’s not ready yet. Slow the fuck down, dammit. Stop thinking with your fucking dick all the time._

He registered the strength of the storm before he frowned and said “Adam, what the hell?”

Adam continued to stare at him. Just when Ronan felt he would disintegrate in acidic uncertainty, he watched Adam grab the hem of his soaked shirt and pull it off over his head. Ronan’s eyes moved across every inch of the bare expanse of Adam’s chest and abs.

His mind went white, utterly blank, for a moment as he stared. Then his brain lurched in understanding.

“Wait,” Ronan said, his eyes drifting back up to Adam’s. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t...we don’t have to…” _Adam, it’s okay. We’re okay._

Adam’s mouth wore a secretive smirk as he swung his sodden tee shirt over his shoulder and grabbed Ronan’s hand. “Shut up, Ronan,” Adam said. “Come here.”

Silent, Ronan allowed Adam to drag him to a spot closer to the hay bales.

“Sit here,” Adam instructed, pressing Ronan to the hayloft floor where he landed cross-legged.

Adam moved to stand in front of a hay bale, directly in front of him. He tossed his tee shirt behind him onto a bale and peeled off his work gloves. He let one hand drift over to the waistband of his jeans. Ronan’s brain stuttered to process the sight of Adam’s hand sliding down the front of his pants and back up to his waistband. Along his cock. 

He knew his eyes were wide. Adam’s hand moved slowly along the same path again, and it was obvious he was growing harder.

 _Adam’s hand. Adam is - Adam’s cock_. Explosions burst through Ronan, a chain reaction from brain to heart to cock. “Fucking Christ,” he breathed.

Strobe-lit by lightning, Adam continued to stroke his palm up and down in a slow and steady rhythm, and Ronan’s eyes locked on Adam’s hand. When Adam’s other hand drifted to his waistband to unbutton, unzip, Ronan wrenched his eyes upward to meet Adam’s.

Then Adam’s thumbs were hooked inside his jeans, and he bent forward to shove them down, his eyes never leaving Ronan’s. 

When Adam stood up, he was naked, his cock twitching. His jeans were pooled around his workboots - _which...motherfucker_ \- and he was lit by the golden glow of the dream flowers then slivered by lightning flash. Ronan, a starving beggar at a lavish banquet, rose to his knees.

Adam sat down carefully on a bale and his gaze locked again with Ronan’s. Until Adam slowly opened his thighs, and Ronan’s gaze slid immediately down.

Adam’s beautiful, elegant hand was flat and trailing up and down his stiff cock. _Holy fuck._

His hand was now a fist, and stroking faster. Ronan Lynch had never been so hard in all his life.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Ronan growled from deep in his throat, his eyes riveted. “Adam...fucking hot.”

Adam’s head went back with a groan. Adam’s hips thrust his cock upward into his fist when it stroked down. Ronan wondered ridiculously if this was what an aneurysm felt like. He heard Adam rasp “C’mere,” and Ronan moved before his mind gave his body permission.

“Kiss me,” Adam groaned as his thumb and finger circled his cock, gliding and twisting just under the head.

Ronan swallowed hard, then cupped Adam’s elegant face with both hands, and kissed him fiercely. They moaned into the kiss, tongues soft and wet and urgent. Ronan’s own cock was stone with a punishing pulse.

Adam stopped stroking to grab Ronan’s hand and place it along his straining cock. He closed Ronan’s finger around his shaft, placed his hand on top of Ronan’s, and together their hands moved faster. _Jesus_.

“God, yes, Ronan. Make me come I’m gonna come so hard,” Adam croaked. Ronan bent to kiss him savagely.

Adam’s hand urged Ronan even faster, his choked groan when Ronan’s rhythm picked up made something under Ronan’s stomach tighten and burn. Adam’s naked body jerked and rippled beneath Ronan’s stroking hand, his fevered kisses.

He felt the quake of Adam’s orgasm, and pulled back to watch as it surged through his body. Ronan felt the rhythmic pulsing against his palm as Adam shuddered through his release. As he came, Adam whispered his name _“RonanRonanRonan.”_

Ronan held Adam while his chest heaved, through aftershocks. He grabbed Adam’s discarded gloves from the loft floor and used them to clean Adam up as best he could. When Adam could - barely - speak, he whispered “Welcome home.”

“If this is welcome home, I’m going away again tomorrow,” Ronan murmured before kissing Adam again, soft like reverence.

Adam laughed gently into the kiss, one arm sliding around Ronan’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Adam’s other hand had drifted to the front of Ronan’s jeans. Adam applied just a hint of pressure with his palm.

Ronan pulled back to look at Adam, his eyes hooded, his lips swollen, his breathing strangled.

Adam said nothing, but pressed against Ronan’s erection, the heel of his hand making small circles.

Ronan’s eyes closed, his hips rocked forward, his breath stopped. Nothing existed for that moment but the pressure of Adam’s hand on his cock. _Shit. Holy shit._

When Adam’s fingers unbuttoned his jeans, Ronan’s eyes opened and he dragged in a breath. He felt Adam’s hand at the collar of his jacket, pulling it down. Ronan shrugged the jacket off his shoulders and Adam yanked it down as his other hand tugged the zipper of Ronan’s jeans. Ronan took a moment to gracelessly shove his jeans to his ankles.

When Ronan sat up, Adam’s eyes dropped. Ronan’s aching cock twitched once before Adam covered it, stroking his open palm down Ronan’s shaft.

“Jesus. God. Adam,” Ronan grunted, as Adam’s long warm fingers wrapped around him. Adam crushed his mouth to Ronan’s, one hand cupping the curve of his skull, the other stroking, slithering, skimming.

Nuclear fusion dissolved Ronan from the inside.

Ronan’s hips rolled upward. “Adam,” he gasped, “I can’t - I’m -”

“Ronan,” Adam drawled, his rhythm increasing “Come for me.” Ronan’s spine began to melt.

He groaned long and deep, his head tilting back, one arm draped around Adam’s bare waist, his fingers digging into Adam’s naked hip.

“Fuck, Adam,” Ronan hissed, “You - make me…,”

Adam’s voice was honeyed and throaty when he whispered “Come, Ronan,” his lips next to Ronan’s ear.

When Ronan moaned, Adam’s mouth sank to kiss him as he bucked and shuddered through his orgasm, throbbing in Adam’s hand, wet heat striping the tank top he still wore. 

Adam’s hands were gentle, one stroking from the back of his head down to his neck, one feather-light under his tank on the bare skin of his stomach. Ronan’s lungs took a while to work again. His thumb made circles on Adam’s hip.

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed, still caught, lost, gone in Adam’s gaze. “Mmm,” Adam hummed.

“I’d hug this out with you,” Adam said after a moment, his voice low, “but you’ve made a big mess there on your shirt.” Adam’s mouth quirked into a dirty shape.

“Says the guy who just ruined a pair of work gloves,” Ronan retorted softly.

Adam snickered and Ronan joined him. Adam closed the distance, kissing Ronan gently, thoroughly. 

“Fucking hay,” Ronan griped when Adam was done, lifting his ass off the bale. “Pull up your pants, Parrish, and take me home to bed.”


End file.
